


Vibrant

by TheThirdGreywaren (ShelbyDraven)



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Fluff, Multi, more tags to be added probably
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-28
Updated: 2015-05-27
Packaged: 2018-04-01 14:48:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4023901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShelbyDraven/pseuds/TheThirdGreywaren
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The world of Thedas contains many different shades of colors, but to Dorian Pavus, Inquisitor Piran Lavellan truly makes them more vibrant.</p><p>(A collection of random and slightly-connected tales about the pariah Tevinter altus, the falsely holy-marked elven Herald, and their love that was doomed from the very start.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. White as Snow

Dorian despised snow.

Unfortunately, the powdery cold stuff that probably originated from the darkest depths of the Fade itself was everywhere. Skyhold’s mountainous environment did no favors for him either.

“Snowing again?”

Dorian glanced up from his scowling at the window, mood instantly improving when he saw the Inquisitor’s warm smile.

“Indeed. The audacity of this place! It snowed last night; the sky is really overdoing it.” Dorian cast a glare at the light dusting snowfall, earning him a gentle laugh from his audience.

“Maybe it will tire itself out?” Piran suggested. Dorian nodded his approval, frowning slightly when he noticed how Piran leaned a bit too heavily against the bookcase behind him, and in the flicker of a nearby torch, Dorian could make out the light sweat dotting his lover’s forehead.

“We can only hope.” Dorian slid a scrap of paper in the book he was reading, making sure to exactly mark his spot before setting his reading material aside and getting up to join Piran.

The elf looked like he had some color in his cheeks, finally. Although he still had abnormally sharp cheekbones and darkened bags under his eyes, Piran still seemed slightly better than he had in the past couple of weeks. He must of have felt better too, since he walked up a set of stairs that seemed longer every time just to see Dorian, and when Dorian was in arm’s reach, Piran reached out, gripped him firmly by the front of his robes, and brought him in for a sweet greeting kiss.

“Nice to see you too, _amatus_ ,” Dorian breathed when Piran pulled back hesitantly. A shy, sweet smile, and Dorian barked a laugh when a pair of hands tried to smooth out the wrinkles they made in his robe. Dorian caught Piran’s smaller hands in his own, letting a lazy wave of fire magic warm the elf’s hands.

“Don’t bother; I fear that they are too far gone,” Dorian said sorrowfully, referring to the robes that Piran looked like he wanted to fix _badly_. There was still a sense of worry occupying the other’s face, so Dorian leaned forwards and kissed him firmly, successfully distracting him.

“I can buy you new robes,” Piran whispered when Dorian broke their kiss. Dorian laughed again, softly, and gently rested his forehead against his lover’s.

“You do owe me a new copy of the _Greater Tome of the Mortal Vessel_ , while you’re at it,” Dorian said. Piran winced adorably, a light flush creeping up his cheeks and throat.

“I didn’t mean to drop it in the fountain, I promise. Cole appeared and scared me-”

Dorian silenced the beginning of Piran’s familiar rambling recount of the accident with another kiss, this time softer and more forgiving. When he pulled away, the flush looked darker, and Dorian couldn’t resist a smile.

“ _Ir abelas, ma vhenan_ ,” Piran said breathlessly.

“You better not be apologizing.”

“Ah… I’m s-”

“Don’t. Just. Hush, _amatus_ , before you dig yourself a deeper hole.”

A playful look, then the coy reply, “Make me?”

Dorian laughed and eagerly leaned in, taking all words off of both of their minds.


	2. Under a Black Sky

“ _Maker_!”

Cold air wrapped itself around Dorian the second he stepped into the Inquisitor’s room, causing a rush of Tevene swears to spill from his mouth; some would make his ancestors roll in their graves, even.

“Piran, you better have a good reason for turning your room into an icebox!” Dorian called as he ascended the steps. He received no answer, and he tried to ignore the dread gnawing on his gut.

“Piran?” Now that Dorian arrived at the top of the staircase, he noticed that the Inquisitor’s room looked empty. The bed sheets were disrupted, however, and Dorian would not be surprised if it turned out that Piran suffered a nightmare and tried to find some relief.

He headed towards the balcony doors, which were wide open, and some of his dread eased when he noticed a certain Inquisitor sitting cross-legged on the balcony floor, back pressed up against the stone railing, and a book open in his lap. A pitiful-looking lamp sat beside him, casting a flickering glow and throwing shadows across the balcony floor.

He looked up sharply when he saw Dorian’s feet come into view, and his smile warmed up some of the chill in Dorian’s bones.

“I’ve been trying to read more,” Piran said proudly, holding up his selected reading material: _Swords and Shields_.

Dorian couldn’t help it; he burst into laughter. It was the dead of night, snow lightly dusted the area on and around Piran, coldness seeped into his skin, and this elf, his _amatus_ , was reading smutty material by the local dwarf rogue.

Piran was giving him a bright smile, and Dorian didn’t hesitate to sit alongside him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and pulling him close. He murmured a spell under his breath, and warmth leaked from his skin, easing Piran’s chilly exterior. Piran made a happy sound in his throat and buried himself against Dorian’s side.

“Well?” Dorian said. “Let’s hear it.”

Piran gave him a confused look, and when Dorian’s eyes darted to the book that the elf clutched, understanding dawned, a blush filling his cheeks.

“I-I’m not very good,” Piran muttered, but Dorian only tightened his grip around the Inquisitor, nudging the smaller man with his shoulder in encouragement.

Piran sighed, but his voice was steady and confident as he began to read where he left off.

“He held himself with the confidence of a man who had never been refused...”

It was early morning when Dorian blinked the sleep out of his eyes. The first thing he saw was Piran, who wrapped himself around Dorian tightly, burrowing his face into the crook of the mage’s neck. _Swords and Shields_ lay forgotten in the elf’s lap, open to the last page. Dorian briefly remembered hearing Piran finish reading before drifting off to sleep just an hour or two ago, and he smiled proudly at the slumbering elf in his arms.

“You need better taste in books,” he whispered fondly.

Of course, Dorian was also an excellent teacher, but Piran was a perfect student in his own right.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two things: one, I did make up that line supposedly from Swords and Shields, and two, I'm not sure if it's clear enough here, but I have a headcanon that Piran didn't really know how to read or write Common upon arriving to Haven, and with the help of his advisors he learned to scrape by. However, Dorian learns of this outrage and teaches him further, and thus Piran is a better reader and can write letters with only light supervision.


	3. The Green Sun

_Festis bei umo canavarum_.

That was Dorian’s first thought, because Piran could very well be the death of him when he was dangling from the roof of the barn.

A group had gathered around, watching curiously as their beloved Inquisitor and Herald cautiously navigated the roof, exchanging elven words and taunts with a very excited and amused Sera.

“Keep up, Shiny!” Sera yelled, and a rather informal string of curses had Piran hurrying up his balanced walk.

“What is it about now?” Dorian asked Bull, who had taken a seat on a nearby bench and was watching the entire scene in utmost amusement. Bull grinned as Sera began to curse about talented Inquisitors having no skill and cheating, and answered Dorian with simply, “Boss made a bet.”

“My gratitude for sparing no detail.” Dorian shook his head. He tilted his head to watch the activity on the roof, snorting when Piran faked a trip and used it to overwhelm Sera with her own laughter. The latter yelled obscenities when Piran moved in for what Dorian assumed was the final blow, and began to… recite poetry.

“This is why I never leave the library,” Dorian announced, but the crowd’s laughter and Sera’s inconsolable yelling and Piran's amused and endless stream of poetry (half in elven, half in Common Tongue) drowned him out, and in the end he only smiled, too amused to even be mad at the shining star above them.


	4. Red Faces, Red Hearts

The last of the Good Days was on a clear, warm day, and the sun left little shadows. It was at its highest in the sky when Dorian bravely battled the kitchen cooks for a basket of food and stole away the Inquisitor for a romantic getaway.

Well, as romantic as one could get when stuck in a fortress in the Maker-damned mountains.

“Josephine is going to be furious,” Piran said weakly, but his steady pace begged to differ about his worry over the Ambassador’s feelings at the moment.

“Josephine despises the _Evil Tevinter Magister_ enough. Now I strive for her disapproval; make a record out of it!”

Piran laughed, “I thought you weren’t a member of the Magisterium!”

“Hush, _amatus_ , we’re nearly there.”

True to his word, they arrived at Dorian’s destined spot in mere moments, and Dorian was quite proud at how serene the entire scene was. No one had stole the blankets he had carefully arranged, and the picnic basket holding their lunch remained undisturbed as well.

“ _Oh_ ,” Piran said breathlessly, and Dorian proudly lead him to the blankets. He did a formal bow that would do his father proud in other situations and made Piran laugh as the elf took a seat. Dorian followed suit, and as soon as he sat down he pulled a bottle of fine Antivan wine and two glasses out. He filled them equally at first, but when he saw the one Piran reached for he added a quick slosh for good measure.

“Drinking on-duty?” Piran smiled. “Josie is going to be vivid, _ma vhenan_.”

“How ever will I survive her wrath?” Dorian sighed, taking a thoughtful sip from his glass. “Perhaps I can seek refuge in the Lord Inquisitor’s room?”

“Whatever you need,” Piran agreed, and they both laughed at the thought of Dorian hiding in Piran’s room while a disgruntled Ambassador prowled the grounds.

They relaxed into easy banter, then, and Dorian successfully steered the conversation away from any type of Inquisition talk. He broke out plates of warm soup and pasta ladled with a rich sauce, as well as slices of fresh bread.

“I have suffered smacked hands for the sake of this meal, you know,” Dorian said in a wounded tone, and Piran chuckled softly, reaching out to take the Tevinter’s hands. With a sly look, he raised Dorian’s hands and gently kissed the top of each one.

Dorian sincerely hoped his face was not as flushed as the rest of him.

“ _Ma serannas_ ,” Piran said sweetly. Oh, yes, Dorian was definitely red in the face, he could feel it.

“I do hope that is a ‘thank you’,” Dorian said, his voice slightly unsteady.

“It is.”

“Okay, good. Let’s start eating then, yes?”

“Of course, _ma vhenan_.”


End file.
